So, I'm in the market for a new tattoo. I think that this will be my last one. I have a feeling that four is a good number to cap it at. My father has already informed me that I "look like a carnival worker," so thats good. Anyway, I want this:
Ideally, I'd like to put it on my inside of my left arm, but I'm sort of chickening out about the location. My others, for the most part, are hidden and I like that - I get them for me, not everyone else. So any suggestions will be dually mulled over.
Yesterday was one of those days when the stars align, the god's are smiling, and other good things of that nature are happening. It began friday morning when fifth-grade-teacher-chris announced that he would love nothing more than to venture to citizen's bank arena, see the liberty bell, and attempt to get some cheap seats to george michael. A lofty idea, sir. I admire your notion of fair odds.
I proceeded on my hunt for tickets, since Phils - Braves is obviously sold out. I thought I did pretty well - 80 bucks for two on the first level, but behind the foul pole. Whatever. I'll take it. It turns out, that in a cruel twist of fate - stub hub totally eff'd me, only charging me for one! WTF am I going to do with ONE phil's ticket? I bit the bullet and just bought some cheap seats - no matter, we didn't sit in them anyway.
We get down to the city of brotherly love: fifth-grade-teacher-chris gets his historic walking tour of the liberty bell etc., Erin get's a cheesesteak from Steaks on South (not our fav place, but it'll do), I get possibly the best game I've ever seen with a 10-9 win after what was the most brutal inning in the history of baseball. We're happy. We're content. We're trying to see george michael!
It had been previously decided that we'd pay no more than 25 bucks for tickets - we had already resigned to sit in the nose bleeds. We score the cheap seats for 24 dollars, but as luck would have it Mr. Michael neglected to sell out Wachovia, and we were thusly upgraded to section 103, right in the middle of one giant gay pride parade. It was amazing - but I was totally expecting more glitter. He sang the classics, the new stuff, and much to fifth-grade-teacher-chris' despair neither "Wake me up" or " I want your sex" - but let's be real Chris, beggars can't be choosers.
And so now I leave you with Anne Longstreet's favorite George Michael song - his second encore of last night. Cheers!
"Somethings are like great shoes, that don't go with anything you own. " - erin, on the couch, just now.
Another week of swimming lessons over - there's only one more to go for this session. I've gotten attached to some of my kids so it's going to be sad to see them go. Others, I can't wait to get rid of. Such is life. I'm most excited not to smell like chemicals for the entire month of August. woo!
Last weekend Erin and I ventured into the city for one of her closest friends' bachelorette party. as far as nights out in the city go, it was pretty average: expensive drinks, stupid dudes ("hey uhhhhh you ladies see bon jovi today or what?"), expensive cab fair (we walked 20 blocks) etc. On our way home from the festivities Erin and I struggled to find a PATH station that was open after 2am. In our travels we stumbled upon the following moment
It's the half way mark of swimming lessons. I have some gnarly water in my ear, my kids aren't listening to me, I always smell like chemicals and I'm pretty cranky - per the usual. Good news is, someone offered to cover my shift on friday and I'm headed down the shore faster than you can say "not now chief, i'm in the fuckin' zone."
Last night we had the official hot hot house warming party and pot luck dinner at 20 hale street. It started off with me getting totally ripped off by Joe's Liquors and paying an ARM AND A LEG (285.32) on a keg of miller lite. Seriously, how stupid am I? The good news is that I managed to gather an entourage and intimidate the crap out of "Joe" and get my money back this morning - but never mind all that.
We had a really great smattering of people show up, and they brought very exciting things to eat and drink - including but not limited to a gigantic apple pie which I completely and unabashedly took a fork to and feel no remorse for. Anne Longstreet - eat your heart out.
Today, per the usual for this weekend, it was icky out. Its your classic, mid summer, jersey haze and humidity that's been loaming over my weekend like a pimple on prom night. So in lieu of going down the shore (the obvious choice) Roommate and I found ourselves running various errands and on the desperate search for a drill. Today we took on the task of making our house a home (sigh). She should have been studying for her music midterm, and Lord knows I should have been napping, but I like to think that the world is a little bit of a better place, now that we have house plants and wall hangings. My work here is done.
our house plant!
Roommate, hanging pictures. Max suggested I get a stud finder - too bad I've been looking for one-a-those forev. ugh.
In other news, spent the day with H yesterday. She's still my idol, so that's nice. I'm tres disappointed that Neil Diamond is cutting into her graduation party - but they ARE two of my fav jews.
She's the funny one.
Finally - Dear Phillies, This is your mid season reminder to keep your game faces on - the Mets don't deserve two in a row. thanks. Love, AP
I thought that the best way to chronicle the happenings of Miller's 4th of July get together would be to list the ridiculousness in order of importance
1. Drunk British girl, celebrating colonial independence, in a completely clear bathing suit. She loved it. So did every male in north brunswick. 2. Miller Lite's stellar guido performance and his ability to stay in character all damn day. "Hey sugartits, if you're not gonna bet me a beer, at least take ya shirt off" 3. Teaching foreigners the wonders of beer related games - its hard, when they don't already know the rules of baseball 4. floating pong - for about five seconds 5. rain.
It was a long day - and no fireworks, so that was a let down. Everyone was in top form in north brunswick, thanks for that.
I wish there were more to say. I'm averaging 10 hours a day at the pool monday through thursday (for now) which is good for my back account (I hope, I've yet to be paid) and terrible for my social life. It is not to say that all my swimming buddies aren't very sweet and funny and dreadlocked (yes) but mostly my days are as follows:
wake up - 8.30 : not terribly bad, surely I've woken much earlier for previous gigs, but it gets better 9:45-1:30 (in general): first shift of lessons, ranging from preschoolers ("blow bubbles everybody!") to eight year olds ("kick, kick, head in the waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaater!") By now, my voice is starting to get iffy.
1:30-2:30: camp. 40 preschoolers from the near by orthodox jewish day camp come by for "free swim" which means clinging on to the backs of the four instructors (welcome to the joys of being under staffed).
3 - 7:45: more lessons, ranging age groups. By 5pm my voice is GONE and none of the little boys listen to me. I pretty much just hand them kick boards and let them go.
8:30-10pm: women's only lessons. The ladies are really sweet and really terrified of the water, so its like teaching really tall preschoolers.
Bed by 11 because I've been treading water all day (maybe this will keep me thin?), wake up and do it again. Sigh.
